Ain't no mountain high enough

Some people look at me and know my miniscule weight-loss has plateaued. The rude ones go as far as to say I haven't lost any or I've put some on or not saying anything at all (probably fearing my wrath for saying something wrong). I've cut that lot out of my address book.

My revised 6 month plan to lose some serious kilos is near its middle and I have been terrible at going to the gym. 60 weeks in to a very expensive gym membership and I am only managing 3 days a week in my best weeks. A far cry from the initial motivated self that dragged herself out of bed, well into week 40, atleast 4 to 5 days each week to hit some cardio machine or swim. Some weeks in the recent past I have woken up, given myself an entire lecture on why I should go NOW. Turned over and gone straight back to sleep, wiping away the list of reasons why with one fell swoop, "anyway it won't make a difference", slept 4 minutes past my bedtime/ too late last night", "it's too cold/ wet/ hot/ muggy", "life is too short". You get the drift.

To make up for the lull in gym participation, steeply falling levels of motivation and the sniggering scales I decided to take the plunge and try out a new class. It's taken a year of watching people attack this class through the glass walls of their studio for me to pluck up the courage and go and talk to the teacher. Am I too fat/ unfit? Will I manage? etc. Being assured I would be just fine and that if I kept at it and did it upto twice a week I could lose some serious kilos, I convinced myself two weeks ago that I would try it out.

Come Tuesday morning, attired in my finest non-branded garb, I presented myself at Studio A for an Indoor cycle class (I hear the round of applause). Instructions carefully given, cycle adjusted, loud thudding music booming and we were off. For 45 minutes of hill climbing. I mostly sat and cycled (more in shock on different levels: what am I doing HERE/ Man, these dudes are SO FIT/ Up, down, WHAAAAT, make up your mind lady/ Resistance - now which way do I turn damn knob/ Oooh can people see my continent-sized behind/ There goes my towel skidding along the floor/ Dropped water bottle cap makes LOUDER noise than boom box/ Boom box is giving me a headache/ I'm a fatty, get ME OUT OF HERE) as the rest of the super fit athletes stood and cycled up the Alps. I attempted going up just one 5 minute hill with resistance for better balance (technical terms only we cyclists get you know). I nearly died.

For the rest of the week I needed no excuse to not go to the gym. I couldn't feel most of of my legs, just the muscles that took on a new throbbing life of their own. Here was my perfect excuse to sleep away each morning.

This week however, glutton for punishment that I am, I went back. All those 40 minutes of Cardio in the gym nearly every morning, paid off and with my strong-as-a-horse-heart and big-as-an-elephant-body I managed an entire class at the pace of the oh-so-fit-class; up hills, down hills, along long treacherous roads etc. Came away soaked in sweat (which I hear is a good thing) and feeling virtuous like never before. Did not even care that I was in the back row and an entire gym population had been tortured by having to watch my elephantine backside lurch from side to side as I valiently climbed hills. I, 32 in 2007, had tried something new and managed to endure it and in some small measure *GASP* even enjoyed it. What is wrong with me?

The 45 minutes flew by faster than anything and the drill seargent yelling motivational things from up front certainly speeded things up. Especially "lets get those gluts in motion". Of course I haven't lost any weight (yet) but my muscles are having the time of their life. Born to be free and all that. Muscle weigh more than fat yada yada yada. Eventually something will have to give. I will go back.